Jack Dawson's Day Off
by RachelDalloway
Summary: Set during the mid-1980s. Jack, Rose, and Fabrizo take a day off from high school in search of adventure while their principal and Jack's bitter cousin Cal try to catch them breaking the rules. Based loosely on "Ferris Bueller's Day Off"
1. Chapter 1

**AN: JluckyJ deserves credit for the idea. **

Jack folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the stars and water lilies swirling above his head. The mural had taken a month and four king sized sheets to complete. His Aunt Linda gasped when she saw it, her belief that he was well on his way to becoming a rich and famous artist confirmed yet again. His Uncle Nathan asked what was wrong with a plain white ceiling before clapping Jack on the back and pronouncing it a "fine job". But their reactions paled in comparison to Rose's. Just remembering it made him smile, the way her green eyes—eyes he had more than once tried to capture on paper—lit up, the look of pure joy on her face. "It's wonderful," she said softly. "Jack, this is exquisite work!" She immediately scrambled up the ladder for a closer look. "Paint one for me?"

"Of course," he said. Their eyes met. A soft blush spread across her cheeks. Suddenly Jack was very aware that they were alone for the first time since they went from "friends" to "something else".

And then his cousin Cal's voice shattered the moment. "Don't tell me he's showing you that thing." Cal's rich tones echoed with barely concealed disgust. "Next thing we know you'll think you're Michelangelo," he added tossing a chuckle in Jack's direction. "He'll be better," Rose said climbing down the ladder. "Not if he keeps doing these finger paintings," Cal snorted. "He'll never amount to a thing." Rose's jaw tightened. Jack shoved his hands in his pockets to hide his fists. He and Cal had never gotten along, but their rivalry, for lack of a better word, hadn't mattered when they only saw each other a few times a year. But now that they lived together the tension between them was like a brick wall. Jack breathed deeply, pushing aside the retort that lurked behind his firmly closed lips. He refused to be baited by Cal in front of Rose.

"The difference in your taste in art and your artistic ability," she said crisply, "is that there isn't one. You don't understand truth, just logic." Cal hid his anger well. "What is truth if not logical?" he asked, a hint of condescension in his voice. Laughing, Rose picked up the ladder and swept past him. She set it down with a dull _plunk._ Jack held in a smile as she scrambled back to the top. "Logic is for Vulcans," she said dismissively. "Miserable creatures who can't see the value of a single emotion." She glanced down at Jack. "I trust illogical—crazy—things more than anything else."

That had been February—two months earlier. Eight months since he moved to the suburbs outside Philadelphia, nine months since his godfather Claude decided he needed to be with "real" family, seven months since he met Rose, and one week since he took Rose's hand as they walked home from school. His heart beat faster just thinking about it. She smiled but avoided his eyes as they walked. Her fingers curled around his hand. He slowly rubbed his thumb over hers. She responded by covering his hand with her free one and stroking his knuckles with her fingertips. With each step they moved a little closer together.

"Guess this is where I leave ya," Jack said when they reached her house. Rose's curls fell around her face. Smiling happily she looked down at their clasped hands. "I never realized how big your hands are," she said, suddenly shy.

"Sorry."

"Why?" She pressed her palm against his. "I like them." He brought his hand up to her face. "You're really beautiful," he said. "I should've told you that already." She kissed his fingertips. His hands were softer than she had expected yet there was a roughness to his skin that was not altogether unpleasant. It filled her head with images of him working outside with his sleeves rolled up. "I should've done that before now," she said. Their eyes met.

"Rose—"

"Jack—"

They dissolved into nervous laughter. "We never have trouble talking," he said. "I know," she said still giggling. "It's as if all the words I told myself I would say during this moment don't exist anymore."

Her lips were cool and soft when he kissed her. She tasted exactly the way he imagined she would, only better. She put her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him closer. He wanted to hold her in his arms and press her body to his, but he settled for letting one hand rest on her waist and the other on the small of her back. They kissed tentatively yet with an undeniable hunger.

Everything changed after that. And now, lying in bed staring at the mural he had painted with her in mind, Jack couldn't believe any of it. "She's my girlfriend," he said slowly letting the words roll off his tongue. "Rose is my girlfriend."

He glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table. With a groan he reached over and flicked off the alarm before it could sound. He sat up and took the telephone receiver out of its cradle. It rang nine times before Fabrizo answered.

"What? I'm sick."

"No, you're not. And neither am I."

"Jack, I'm sick. I'm home sick. You're fine. Go to school," Fabrizo said groggily. Jack rolled his eyes. "Fabri, do you realize how few days we have left? We're graduating in two months. Two months, my friend, and then we are out of high school forever."

"Yeah, and that's why I don't want to screw up now by getting caught ditching school with you."

"They won't take away a scholarship because you skipped school, and even if they would it doesn't matter because we won't get caught. Have I ever been caught ditching?"

"Doesn't mean it can't happen."

"It won't. Now get up. You've gotta come pick me up, or we aren't doing anything today." Jack fished in the bedside table drawer for the thermometer he kept there. While Fabrizo went over his many symptoms Jack held the thermometer next to the light bulb in his lamp. "You've just described consumption," he said when the list concluded. "Do ya really think you've got consumption?"

"Here in the 80s we call it tuberculosis," Fabrizo said drily.

"Well, here in Jack's room we call it my best friend needs to come pick me up."

"I'm going back to sleep. Go to school. Rose will be there."

"Not for long."

"Damn it Jack, don't tell me you've gotten her involved in these schemes of yours!" It was said with as much force as Fabrizo felt was possible in his weakened state. "She wanted to be involved," Jack replied. "We already ditched once without you."

"Well, then you don't need me."

Jack sighed. "C'mon Fabri. I—Shit! Gotta go. Pick me up!" In one quick motion he slammed the phone down and jumped back under the blankets. He popped the thermometer in his mouth. He hissed when it burned his tongue. As the doorknob began to turn he took a deep breath. When the door opened and his Aunt Linda walked in his eyes were half closed, his jaw slack, and he was groaning. She put a concerned hand on his head. "Jack, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he said. "Just having a little trouble getting up." He slowly moved to sit up, grimacing as if he were in pain. "Is it late?"

"Not really," she said. She brushed the hair away from his forehead. "But I'm not sure you should be going to school. Let me see that thermometer."

"Don't tell me you're letting him stay home," Cal said incredulously. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. "Mom, seriously!" Linda pursed her lips. "If he's sick then he is most certainly staying home." She turned back to Jack who was holding the thermometer in one trembling hand. She clucked her tongue. "101. You're staying home."

"No," Jack protested. "I have a test. I can go."

"Not with that temperature you won't," she said.

"You never let me stay home!" Cal cried. "This is absurd. He's faking!"

"Aren't you going to be late?" his mother said shortly. Scowling he turned to leave. "If I were an orphan I'd get special treatment too," he muttered.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you all for reviewing! I'm sorry this took so long!**

Fabrizo threw a pillow at the ringing phone. It missed the phone and bounced off the wall. He groaned into his blanket. "Stop calling," he said through clenched teeth. "I. Am. Sick." He breathed a sigh of relief when the ringing stopped a moment later. "Good. You got the point." He rolled over and closed his eyes. He had just pulled the blanket over his head when the phone began ringing again. "Damn it." He lunged off the bed and grabbed the phone. "Jack, seriously, I am sick…Yes, I am….Yes, I am…No….No, I won't come pick you up….Because I'm sick! I feel like shit, Jack….No, a day off will not help me. What I need is to be home in bed. Why dontcha call Rose? Have her come over like she did the last time you ditched? Why do you mean you don't want to do that? Jack just—What? No…No! I mean it…..Fine. I'll be there in ten."

He let the receiver drop from his hand. "How does he do this to me?"

…

Jack took the stairs two at a time. The freshly waxed hardwood floor in the dining room was easy to slide across and so was the linoleum in the kitchen. He stopped just in front of the refrigerator. He reached in and pulled out a pitcher of water and a peach. Munching the peach he poured himself a glass of water. Ignoring the peach juice that dripped from his hand he leaned against the counter as memories of his last self-appointed day off began running through his mind.

He and Rose didn't plan to ditch school that day; it just happened. He knew something was afoot when she was standing at his locker already. Their morning ritual had always been to meet at hers—it was closest to the door he used—and since their switch from friends to "something else" that at least hadn't changed. "Do you know what I was thinking?" Rose asked with a smile. He dropped his worn military issue knapsack on the floor next to his feet. "Nope." He flashed her a grin of his own. "But I'd like to."

"Sure you want to know?" she teased. "It might be a bit shocking."

"I think I can handle it."

…

Jack's hand was warm over hers, his fingers bigger than she remembered. Her feet pounded on the sidewalk as they ran. The wind whipped her skirt back. She giggled, loving the feel of the air on her legs. When they reached the corner Jack stopped. "Why are we—" she began. He pulled her close. Her heart skipped a beat. His blue eyes mesmerized her.

Jack tried to hold back when he kissed her. His hand curled around her cheek. She leaned into his touch.

…..

The sound of the doorbell brought Jack back to the present. Peach juice dripped from his hand. "Just let yourself in, Fabri!" he called grabbing a towel.

"So, I'm here!" Fabrizo called. "What's so important?" He stopped at the open kitchen door. "What are you doing?"

"I was eating a peach."

"Do you not know how?"

"I got distracted."

Fabrizo hopped onto the counter. "Thinking about Rose?" he said in a mock romantic voice. "About how pretty she is?" Jack rolled his eyes. "No. Art."

"About making her into art?" He held up his hands as Jack moved toward him. "Last one!" He laughed. "You really are crazy into her, aren't you?"

"Yeah…I guess I am," he said pensively. "She's just not like anyone else." His eyes brightened. "Feel like making a phone call?"

"I feel like having breakfast. And who am I calling?"

"The school. You've gotta get them to let Rose out." Jack opened the refrigerator. "Here." He tossed Fabrizo an apple. "We'll get something better in the city."

"In the city? No. We are not going there. And this is not a meal."

Jack popped the cap off a bottle of soda and set it down next to him. "Now it is." He hopped onto the counter, a soda of his own in hand. "Why couldn't she just not go to school?" Fabrizo asked. "You're the expert on faking sick."

"Her mom sends her anyway. Remember when she had that cold in October?"

"How'd you get her out of school that time you ditched together? And what did you two do that day, anyway?" Fabrizo asked between bites of apple. Jack took a slow sip of his soda. "We hung out," he said. He hopped off the counter and walked around to the other side. His bottle was still half full, but he put it in the sink anyway. Fabrizo watched him, his apple forgotten. "Yeah, I know that," he said. "But what did you do? You didn't just sit around here all day…did you? Cause, I gotta tell ya that would be a really lame way to spend one of your famous ditch days." Jack stared out the kitchen window. Fabrizo kept talking, but he didn't hear it. Rose's voice filled his ears.

"I can't believe we're really doing this." She giggled nervously. "I've never skipped school before." Jack pushed the front door open. "Now you have," he said with a grin. He bowed low. "After you, miss." She glided past him. "Thank you," she said curtly.

"It's quiet."

Jack nodded. "Everyone's gone." Rose looked into his face. "So, we're alone." He nodded again, his mouth suddenly dry. "Yeah." She slowly walked around the living room. "There aren't any pictures of you," she said, stopping in front of the mantel. There was a picture of Cal, his parents' wedding photo, and a picture of the three of them. "They take a portrait every year," Jack explained. "I wasn't here for this year's."

"But they should have one of you from before." She looked around. There were a few more pictures on the walls, but none were of Jack. "They had one of me from when I was a kid," he said. "But it got broken. Cal accidentally knocked it off the wall."

"I'm sure he did." Rose's tone was clipped. Jack smiled slightly. "He's clumsy sometimes." She raised an eyebrow. "When he wants to be?" Jack was about to answer when she gasped, her eyes wide. She grabbed a book from the coffee table. "Klimt!" Flipping the pages she added, "I assume this is yours?"

"My aunt's—though I think I've looked at it more since I've been here than she has since she bought it." He peered at the book over her shoulder. Avenue of Trees in the Park at Schloss Kammer, 1912. "I love that one."

"You can tell he liked Van Gogh."

"Yeah, but he makes it his own here." He traced the outline of one of trees with his fingertip. "See how he uses color here?"

"It's extraordinary."

Their eyes met. Jack leaned forward, his gaze flicking from her lips back to her eyes. She moved toward him slowly. Their lips brushed. They were more caressing than kissing until Rose reached out and put a hand on the back of Jack's neck. Her lips parted. He—

"Jack!" Fabrizo waved a hand in front of his face. "Jack, do you hear me?" Jack blinked a few times. "What? Stop that!"

"You were just standin there," Fabrizo said. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. Just thinking. Let's go pick up Rose."


End file.
